What could have been
by anuminis
Summary: What if Colby had no choice in going or staying with Don and his team after Trust Metric? Undercover Agent Colby. Crossover with NCIS. Spoilers for Trust Metrics and Rule 51. Pre-slash blink and you'll miss it.
1. Chapter 1

„It was a pleasure working with you."

Colby held out his hand and felt a stabbing pain in his heart as Don hesitated before he shook it. Without another word he grabbed his things and left the bureau.

Damn it! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, Colby thought as he crouched behind the car. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't how he wanted to end it. That fucker Rivera had used him, thrown him to the wolves who greedily took the bait. And from the sound of the ricocheting bullets those wolves wanted to shred him to pieces.

No he didn't want to go like this, like some bastard soldier that had sold his soul to the highest bidder.

He needed to get away, he thought, as he returned the fire. Think, Colby, think. A bullet impacted near his head and he slid deeper down.

Back to the plane was suicide; all of his men were either down or fighting but not for much longer. He had little time before the NCIS agents would get him – dead or alive. They seemed to prefer him dead and he didn't even blame them for it.

Surrender was not an option. He'd come too far had given up too much. It was vital to his mission that he kept his cover. If he were to reveal himself it would take days maybe even weeks to convince them of what he was and he needed to finish his task.

A diversion? But how? He crawled to the back door and opened it; a hail of bullets followed his action accompanied by more shouting that he should the fuck give up.

Always be prepared. That was a lesson that he had carved into his own flesh. He got the bag he'd put in there before people started dying around him. He didn't know why he had packed some grenades; he didn't really care now.

Be prepared. He pulled the pin out of the first grenade and threw it in the direction of the sniper listening for the shouts that would no doubt come and armed the other one. He had only this one chance. Praying that the sniper would be enough distracted he counted down in his head then rolled the grenade under the car before he started to run.

The first explosion shattered the darkness, but he didn't stop, didn't look back; his heart was beating to the rhythm of his feet hitting the asphalt.

He felt the second explosion before he heard it, before the heat overwhelmed him. He was thrown to the ground something had hit him or not; he didn't look, didn't care as he struggled to his feet and continued his flight. Adrenaline kept him upright, kept him running as it pumped through his veins.

He reached the fence behind a hangar and jumped over it with nearly inhuman strength.

Go. Go. Go, his thoughts joined in, in the madly beating rhythm of his heart. He didn't know how long he ran, how far he got away. Only as he stumbled and fell hard did he become aware of his surroundings. Laying there on the ground he started to listen; the sound of his heavy breathing and the beating of his heart was almost deafening.

But he was alone. Alone. No one had followed him. Alone again, it seemed that it was how it was meant to be; never to find a place to stay and start a family.

He groaned as the adrenaline slowly seeped out of his body leaving only pain. He tried to stand up, but screamed and fell back as waves upon waves of burning hot pain shot through him. Something must have hit him after all, Colby thought as he slowly inspected his right side for, the pain was nearly unbearably there.

A bullet maybe or shrapnel? He hissed as his hand made contact with a gash in his skin; something warm and sticky coated his fingers.

Blood. Great. He rolled to his left side hissing and screaming every time he agitated the wound too much.

He hadn't much time; already it felt like his very life was bleeding out of him. Too weak to stand he groped for his mobile hoping it had survived. His hand was shaking badly now that the adrenaline had left him. Or was it already shock? He started to cough. The taste of blood was overwhelming, sickening.

He was dying; he failed after all. He managed to escape only to die alone in a dark alley. The irony wasn't lost on him.

For he had died once. Alone on a freighter, only to be brought back and forced to leave the people he once thought friends and even family.

Only now he didn't even had the illusion of friends. He'd lived the life of an outcast, an abomination far too long. Neither loved nor wanted from the people who thought him a hero once.

But what difference did it made between killing the armed or innocent? Killing it was none the less and it ripped pieces of your soul away every time you did it. Who died in the end made no difference, not to the one who did the killing.

Only to the cameras to those who talked things to death instead of doing something. They were the first to condemn, to ostracize.

Make love not war, Colby snorted and rued it instantly. Love didn't feed people. Love didn't make them rich or powerful or filled their gas tank.

It would always give war. It was the one truth after death.

He lifted his mobile up to his face and saw that it was undamaged and still functioning.

Punching a phone number in out of his memory he hoped that it still was in service. But he would rather talk to the one person he had really trusted one last time before he died, then to his handler who would only note down his death and then erase his existence.

The line connected and Colby listened to the ringing fighting to stay conscious.

"Eppes."

Said the voice that answered his call and Colby thanked every deity he knew hoping that they would look kindly on him and the things he had done. Wherever he ended.


	2. Chapter 2

Don rubbed his temple as he studied the ground plan of the bank building. They had been working this case of high end robbery for quite some time. Charlie had helped him as he so often did now. Sometimes Don was pained that he used his little brother like that, but then when they saved innocent lives he forgot about his fears and doubts for awhile.

Now he was standing in a SWAT trailer and made up battle plans.

It shouldn't have ended like this, but then when was it ever going to be easy? Nothing was ever simple not in his line of work. They had managed to track down the next target. It was supposed to be a clean and easy job. Lay down a trap catch the bad guy - that simple.

But Anderson had screwed up and now he was breathing through a tube in a hospital with a shattered shoulder to top the icing. And they had a hostage situation to clear.

Megan had talked to the hostage takers earlier; tried to reason with them. But they hadn't been desperate enough to even listen to her.

Don had seen how tired she had been, how sick with the world at large. And he feared and worried that she would break would fall at last and not even her brilliant, crazy astrophysicist could catch her and put her back together.

It was a miracle that she even stayed that long. But Don new that she felt obliged to him that she had tried to keep the team together after Colby had left.

His gut clenched in rue and regret as he thought about the soldier.

It was days like these, where everything went to pieces, that he wished he had given him another chance, had fought for him to stay on the team.

Colby certainly would not have made Andersons mistake. He could have also provided a better inside into the case because all of the culprits were ex-soldiers and soldiers had a different mindset all together.

The SWAT leader entered then distracting him from his thoughts. He reported that all snipers were in position as was his assault team. Also he informed him that he should leash his overeager agent before he got himself killed. Don sighed and nodded.

David.

David had been taking Colby's supposed betrayal the hardest; he had changed after the events on the freighter. He was torn between guilt and self-doubt.

He never got the chance to set things right between him and Colby; and it was gnawing at his peace of mind. He had become reckless and bitter; he didn't care for anything other than to get the job done. Still he was a good agent and Don hoped that he would find his balance again.

Don clicked his ear bud and told David to accompany him in the trailer; David reluctantly agreed. Megan joined them and together they got over the plan one last time then took their positions.

They wanted to get this situation over with. The hostage takers weren't talking; surrender seemed to be no option. They only chance was to storm the bank and take them by surprise

The signal came over their ear buds and mere seconds later the detonations of flash bombs were heard. Don and his team moved with the SWAT team entering the building and overpowering their opponents like a pack of lions their prey.

In the end something did go planned after all. Still there had been fatalities. But none of the hostages were killed, well not during the assault.

The aftermath of this incident wasn't pretty. They had to fill nine body bags, four of them with hostages that were executed because they had gotten on the nerves of the soldiers. But 29 of them walked free and unharmed out of the building. And still they had to justify why they did what they had done. What needed to be done.

Like vultures the media swept down on them: clawing and ripping away their flesh gauging in their blood.

Sometimes he asked himself why he even cared to stand up in the morning.

He tried to ignore them the best he could, cleaning the mess up they had left behind; tying up loose ends.

Charlie had called him right after it was over and asked him if he was alright. He was thankful for that for the support his family provided. It was the only thing that kept him going right now.

The report to his superior was unpleasant, but he managed to convince him that his decision was the right one.

He was sitting at his desk finishing his report as his mobile rang. It was already late and only he and Matt were still working. The elevator doors swooshed open as Don looked on his display to see if he knew who was calling him. He winked at Charlie who emerges out of the lift and frowned at the number not recognizing it. Sighing he hoped it wasn't something important; he yearned for a beer and his bed.

"Eppes," he answered his phone.

There was no immediate answer only silence that greeted him. He waited so long that he almost thought it was a prank or someone had gotten the wrong number.

"Don," said a voice and a cold iron fist clenched at his heart.

"Colby," he said in disbelieve. Charlie had by now reached his desk and starred at him; he looked like he felt. Colby didn't answer right away; Don could hear through the phone the heavy rattling breathing. Dread settled in his stomach, whatever it was it must be very bad for Colby to call him. They hadn't talked or seen each other after the awkward goodbye three years ago.

Don knew that Colby had kept sporadic contact with Megan and he knew that every time he'd called Megan was sad and depressed for days. He had never asked her about what they'd talked about; he knew she would never betray his trust in her. But eventually the calls had stopped and Megan became even wearier of the world.

"I'm sorry," Colby said and Don's heart dropped like a stone.

"For what Colby? Sorry for what," he asked.

"For everything," he said in a heavy pained voice. "For lying to you. For losing your trust. Losing your trust…" He mumbled like an afterthought.

"Colby," Don started but was interrupted by heavy coughing. He had a bad feeling about this, snipping wildly at Matt to get his attention. He told him to track down this call. Matt nodded and vanished into the tracking lab.

"Colby where are you," Don wanted to know.

"Doesn't matter … it's too late. I failed," he said in a too quiet voice; Don barely managed to understand what was said.

"Failed… failed you, the team. I'm sorry;" he said and repeated it like a prayer.

"Colby," Don snapped fearfully starring in the direction Matt had vanished. "Tell me where you are," he commanded in his most powerful voice and Colby whimpered softly.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. Tell my mother… tell her that I love her."

"NO!" Don nearly shouted. "You tell her that yourself. Colby do you listen," he asked for Colby had gone quiet. "Colby!" Still no sign from Matt; Don gave in and walked towards the lab.

"Colby," he repeated scared now.

"Tell her," Colby rasped. "Tell her I'm sorry I didn't visit her as often as she had liked me to."

Matt came out of the lab and nearly ran into Don. "He's in Washington DC," he said and gave Don a note with the exact address. "He hasn't moved."

Don nodded. "Get me the next flight to DC," he snapped while listening to Colby's labored breathing.

"I can get you a private jet in half an hour," Charlie said from behind him. His brother must have realized that this was a life or death situation and that Colby was in dire need for help.

"Thanks," Don mumbled and nodded. "Colby do you her. I'm coming for you! Colby?" He was greeted with dead silence. Looking at his display he saw that he was still connected.

"Colby," he shouted while grabbing his jacket and keys.

"I'm sorry." Came the weary respond, the whisper of a dying man. The line disconnected with a doomed crackle. Don starred at his phone with a mixture of feelings; dread, fear and helplessness among them.

He sprang into action like a coiled spring. First he called 911 demanding to be connected with the DC operation center. He barked at the operator that there was a gravely injured FBI agent and ordered him to sent an ambulance to the location he had given him. Charlie had followed him into the garage barely managed to shut the door on the SVU before Don speeded it away with screeching tires.

While Don made a mad dash towards the LAX airport Colby lay silent on the ground starring up at the night sky with unseeing eyes.

He was cold, so cold a total contrast to the time where he laid wrenched in the burning carcass of a Humvee. He had thought he would die then, but he was given another chance.

Now he really was alone. Now he had no one that would come for him. No that wasn't true.

Don was coming for him.

Colby cried silently as his emotions overpowered him. Don was coming for him. It was a surreal thought. A thought he couldn't grasp not after three years of loneliness.

But it was too late. Too little too late. He would only find a shattered and broken body.

'I'm sorry.' Was the last conscious thought before the darkness took him in.


	3. Chapter 3

He was running. Running down a dark and deserted alley; everything was cast in shadows making it impossible to see anything.

He stopped breathing hard trying to orientate himself. Why he was running he did not know there was only this feeling. An urgency he hadn't felt in a long time not since his…

He turned around; he had heard something. Cold shivers ran down his spine. One of the shadows had moved. He felt a presence something was with him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and every other warning signal he had went haywire. It felt like had a laser point on his forehead.

But he couldn't stop now – he was needed elsewhere.

Suddenly the earth around him started to shack violently and he had to fight to keep his balance. The ground he was standing on crumbled and he fell into the dark abyss.

Don woke with a yelp breathing hard. His heart was beating so fast like it wanted to jump out of his chest. Cold sweat made his shirt cling to his body uncomfortably.

"Sorry we flew through turbulences. You alright," someone asked, as Don blinked away the after images of the dream. He turned to the voice and saw his brother look at him in concern.

"Fine," he answered and rubbed his face; he barely managed to keep his hands from shaking. What a dream, he thought and groaned. The feelings he had felt, they were so real and they left him raw and vulnerable.

"Want something to drink?"

Don could hear that his brother wasn't buying his act but he knew that Charlie wouldn't push him into talking about what he had dreamed. He could talk to Charlie about his thoughts and sometimes even his feelings; he knew that. But his dreams they were his own and he had never shared them with anyone not even his therapist.

"Thanks'," he said and accepted the bottle of water Charlie held out for him. He took a gulp and tried to relax back into the really comfortable armchairs. "Where are we," he wanted to know; last time he had checked they'd flown over Santa Fe."

"We're over Cincinnati. The pilot says we're going to be in DC in another hour."

Don nodded. "Did you sleep?"

"Yeah I napped between Oklahoma and St. Louis. I called Dad to let him know where we are," Charlie answered.

Right, Don thought. He still had the pleasure of informing his superiors of his actions. "I need to call Megan, let her know where I am. Maybe she can cover me for a couple of days." He looked at his watch; it was still adjusted to east standard time. It was 2 am in LA and he grimaced; he didn't want to prey down on Megan like that but he had to.

Charlie gave him the on board telephone. He dialed Megan's number and waited for the line to connect. Megan took the call after the second ringing.

"Reeves," she said sleepily but alarmed.

"Megan it's me," Don said and heard the rustle of sheets.

"What is it?" A door was opened than closed again and Don could hear bare feet walking down a corridor.

"I need you to do me a favor. I'm out of town; I don't know for how long. Can you cover me for a couple of days?"

"Yeah sure, but you have to tell me why you couldn't call me at a descend hour," she said and slide out a chair to sit on it.

Don sighs. "What do you know about Colby's work?"

"Don," she said with a warning undertone.

"It's Colby, Megan. He's in trouble. Big trouble and I need you to tell me what you know."

"Where are you heading?"

"DC," he said and heard her frown. "Why?"

"All I know is that he was in Iraq the last time I have spoken to him. He was working for a PMC, for an ex- Col. Merton Bell. He hinted that he was heading to Mexico. What he would be doing there he didn't say, but I can only guess that it has something to do with drug cartels. I don't know what else the FBI would want in Mexico," Megan said hesitant.

"Can you look into this Bell guy, see if you can find Colby and anything about him that might point me in the right direction," Don asked; he didn't like the sound of this. Mexican drug cartels where vicious and ruthless, the current drug war in Tijuana showed that.

"Don? How did you know that Colby is in trouble?" Something rattled in the background probably the coffee machine.

"He called me Meg," he said and dread cramped up his stomach as he remembered Colby's last words.

"I see," Megan whispered. "Is he…" Don could hear the unspoken question and the tears in Megan's voice. Colby had been like a brother to her; they had started to work for him at the same time and had bonded over it.

Don felt a lump in his throat. Is he alright? Is he still alive? God he hoped so, if not he would lay war down on those responsible.

"He said goodbye to me." Megan took a shuddering breath. "I've done everything he could from LA. But I don't know how serious his condition was. It sounded bad," he admitted.

"Get him home," she said. "I'll cover for you. I'm sure you have an aunt in DC that needs taking care of."

"Thanks' Megan. I'll call you. Bye." He listened to her goodbye then disconnected the call. Charlie looked at him. "Is it really that bad?"

Worse, Don thought. "I don't know." And it was this, the not knowing, that was infuriated and unnerved him. That he really had no clue what was happening. All he knew was that Colby had been despaired enough to call him, though they parting hadn't been a good one.

He trusted you once, Don thought.

"Okay…," Charlie started but was interrupted by the signal tone of the intercom.

"Sirs we're approaching DC and are beginning the final descent. Please remain seated the whole time," the captain said.

Don felt relieve in a few minutes he would be in DC and finally do something more than be an inactive bystander.

He was floating – peacefully, free from all his earthly burdens. It was exhilarating; soft light surrounded him like a warm cozy blanket.

He was at peace with himself – content; he wished he could remain here forever.

Opening his eyes he saw a bright light in front of him pulling him in like a mother would her child to caress it. He sighs and let himself be pulled into the light.

But something stopped him; a cold hand grabbed his ankle and yanked at it. He turned around and saw a dark, pitch black abyss sucking the light into it like a black hole.

Another hand came out of the pit and grabbed his other ankle. Colby started to fight it.

"No," he said his voice raw and bloody. He looked back into the light and watched it diminish.

"No," he said again and fought harder but he had nothing to hold on to and the hands pulled at him mercilessly – pulled him back into the darkness.

"We have a faint pulse. We got him back."


End file.
